


when johnny comes marching home again

by ThatOneFan



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, PTSD, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Dancing, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 23:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6878335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneFan/pseuds/ThatOneFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the war, they'd rearrange their apartment to make room, pull out the record player they had, and play the only song they'd ever bought.  And Bucky would teach Steve how to dance.  But it wasn't so much dancing as it was holding each other close and swaying around the open space, Steve's tiny frame nestled against Bucky's taller one.  And they were happy like that, in the peace of their home.</p><p>After the war, Steve kept the record player, and the song.  And he'd move the furniture around like they used to, turn on their song, and sway around the apartment, like he was still holding Bucky.  The neighbors figured it helped him cope with the memories or something.  In reality, it made the pain so much worse.  And it wouldn't be long before he'd start crying and stop swaying, turn off the song, and look at some old sketches.  Because that was the only reminder he had of the one he loved.</p><p>Or, the one in which Steve feels loss and doesn't manage it well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when johnny comes marching home again

_**BEFORE THE WAR.** _

* * *

 

Steve Rogers couldn't dance.  This fact was made apparent when Bucky brought him on a double date and he wound up nearly crushing the poor girl's toes when he tried.  His cheeks had flushed red and he'd apologized so many times it was starting to frustrate everyone involved.  "Stevie, why didn't'cha say you couldn't dance ??  Could'a taught ya sp you didn't make a fool outta yourself."  Bucky had laughed after they'd made their way home, and Steve could only flush and nod out of embarrassment.  "'M serious.  I woulda taught you if you asked."  And Steve knows he was serious, but he didn't want to ask, didn't want to think about what he'd do if he was that close to Bucky, didn't want to think about not being able to control himself.  "Stevie ??  You still with me ??"  Steve shook his head and flashed a smile.  "Just a little out of it, I guess."  Bucky raised an eyebrow at that but let it slide.  And Steve was thankful today was not a day that Bucky decided to dig into whatever he was hiding.  Because you can't just say you're in love with your best friend, now can you ??  Especially if that friend is male.  Because he needed Bucky, no matter how much he wanted to deny it.  The neighbors already talked, and talk spread fast.  He didn't need Bucky getting in trouble because of a few rumors.

"Hey, Buck ??  I'll take you up on that offer."  Steve said one night, looking up from his sketchpad.  "You said you'd teach me how to dance if I asked.  And'm askin'."  Giving his trademark smirk, Bucky stood and Steve placed his sketchpad to the side.  "Well, we're gonna need to make some room for dancin'."  And so they spent the better portion of a couple hours moving what little furniture they had to make room for the two of them to begin.  They'd pull out the record player and the one record they'd ever bought and play it.  Steve stood as far from Bucky as possible, barely holding away a blistering flush.  "Y'gotta stand a little closer, Stevie.  Dame ain't gonna bite unless you do somethin' they don't like."  Bucky teased, an arm coming around Steve's back to pull him closer.  "Now, you put your hand on her waist, like this."  His voice was hardly a whisper now and Steve nodded as Bucky guided his arms and the rest of his body.  "Now I step forward and you go back."  Steve followed, falling into rhythm almost naturally.  "So you can dance with me, but when it comes to some dame you're steppin' all over her feet ??  You're somethin' else, Stevie."

There's a long pause before Steve can speak, and his words are hardly above a whisper, cheeks blistering by this point.  "Maybe I don't want to dance with dames."  And while Bucky doesn't fall out of rhythm, he  _does_ falter just slightly, tensing under Steve's hand.  "....Then who  _do_ you want to dance with, Stevie ??"  Bucky whispers, eyes holding a fiery sort of curiosity, telling Steve he wasn't getting out of this so easily.  "....I wanna dance with you, Buck."  The blonde muttered, averting his gaze towards their feet, which had never stopped moving to the rhythm of the music.  And it was a delayed reaction, but Bucky smiled that trademark smile that made Steve weak in the knees everytime he saw it, and then he spoke.  "Why didn't you say so earlier ??"  Steve glanced up out of the corner of his eye, waiting to see disgust, hatred, or even disappointment in his eyes, the same feelings he'd held towards himself for so long, but none of those things were there.  Bucky was looking at him as if he was finally home.  "....Thought you might leave, or think I'm disgusting, a freak."  Steve's voice was nearly breaking, his grip on Bucky's hand tightening as they stopped moving, standing in the middle of the room.  

"Stevie.  Stevie, look at me."  The hand that'd been resting on Steve's shoulder came to rest on his face, a stern look crossing the taller's face.  "If you're a freak, then so am I, okay ??  We're in this together, remember ??"  And Steve wanted to push him away, wanted to shout that Bucky didn't understand, that he shouldn't want to be in this together, that he couldn't understand what Steve was trying to say.  "...Buck...Buck, you don't....you don't get it."  And before the other had time to react, Steve is standing on his toes, kissing him softly.  And while Bucky freezes in surprise, he doesn't push him away.  "....You don't get it, do you Stevie ??"  The words are gentle and whispered as they pull apart, and Bucky's smile is nothing but loving.  "God, I've loved you for so long.  So, so long, babydoll."  Steve nearly  _whined_ at that, wanting to kiss him again.  "You remember.....remember when you got that flu a long time ago, and....and your mom had to work an extra shift ??  Even back then, Stevie.  I knew I loved you."  And blue eyes are blown wide with shock.  They couldn't have been more than 9 or 10 when Steve had caught the flu so bad he'd been bedridden for a week.  And Bucky had stayed by his side, just like always.  "....I love you, Buck."  The words are shaky and Steve feels like he could cry, but he doesn't.

The record has long since stopped playing, but they're still swaying around their apartment, Bucky humming into Steve's ear, intermingled with stolen kisses here and there.   _Let the neighbors talk_ , Steve thought, leaning into Bucky's chest and smiling.  Who cared what they had to say, anyway ??  Bucky was enough of a skirt-chaser to ward them off.  And if he had to bring home the occasional dame, so be it.  Bucky would still be his, and only his, until the end of the line.

 _Just like always_.

_**AFTER THE WAR.** _

* * *

 

It was  _his_ fault.  His fault Bucky fell.  His fault Bucky was dead and gone.  And now he had to live with that burden.  If he'd only gone after Bucky when he fell, if he'd made a better effort to reach him, if only he'd made Bucky stay behind, if only he'd done this or that Bucky would still be alive.  And he'd tried to drown his sorrows in alcohol, but that just didn't seem to be working.  Because no matter what, he'd still have that image in his mind, still wake up screaming and look for Bucky, only to remember that it was no nightmare, it really happened, and it was his fault, no matter what other people said.  A hero's death, they called it.  But that didn't do it justice.  Bucky was a hero, there was no doubt about that, but he was not deserving of the death he got.  He deserved to die an old man, happy and with a family of his own.  And maybe, just maybe, they could've been happy together, could've run away to somewhere where people didn't talk so much about the affairs of two people who so clearly made each other happy.  That was all Steve wanted, and he'd blown it.  And Bucky, the one person who made him happy, was gone, too.  Peggy found out sooner or later, and slapped some sense into him, quite literally.  Of course she knew about them, she was awful bright, and the way they looked at each other, even a blind man could see it.  Bucky wouldn't have wanted him to mourn like this, to blame himself.  But that didn't make it any easier.  Bucky also wanted to protect the sickly boy from Brooklyn, and look where that got him.  Dead, not even a grave.  A hero's death.  No hero deserved that.

But still, Steve returned to their shared apartment, because he had no where else to go, no where he could even  _remotely_ consider home.  Because his home was dead and gone now.  The apartment was the same as they'd left it, if not a bit dusty.  But it was his home.  No longer  _their_ home.  The record player was right where they'd left it, with their one record on it.  For old times' sake, Steve lifted the needle, placing it back into the groove, eyes closing as the song started up.  If he positioned his hands just right, it was like he and Bucky were dancing again.  And so he moved around the apartment, humming along quietly as he moreso swayed than really danced.  He remembered when Bucky would sing this song at night, when they swayed around the apartment as Bucky taught him to dance.  And his eyes watered and he stopped.  He cried, descending into barely stifled sobs, the sounds muffled by the music playing, until he turned it off, unable to stand the sound of it any longer.  His dancing partner wouldn't be coming home anymore.

And these were the thoughts running through his head when he lied and said he had no other choice but to crash the plane into the ocean.  He was just so  _tired_ of being lonely, of living in a world without the one he loved.   _At least I'll get to see him again_.  And Steve had been prepared to die, even if he knew he'd get a scolding in the afterlife for being a stupid punk.  But it'd be from  _Bucky_.  And he froze with a smile on his face and tears in his eyes.  But when he woke up 70 years later, there would still be no Bucky to speak of.  And he was still alive, still breathing, despite his best efforts.  And upon waking, the pain was still so raw in his heart that he cried after he'd thawed out, the first time in 70 years.  Because 70 years was no where near enough time to mourn such a powerful loss.   

They'd promised to be together until the end of the line.  And Steve thought it horribly unfair that he'd had to compartmentalize and act like he'd moved on so fast, when he'd hardly had time to feel the raw grief stabbing through his heart.  And even after 70 years, Steve still listened to their song.  But only when no one was around.  He knew the questions that would follow, and he still wasn't ready to answer them, still wasn't ready to feel it quite yet.  So he'd keep avoiding it for as long as he could.  But Steve knew, there would come a day when avoiding it would no longer work.

But that day wasn't there quite yet, now was it ??


End file.
